


Drunken

by chuiying_1



Series: Leaving [2]
Category: Gintama
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Gekijouban Gintama Kanketsu-hen: Yorozuya yo Eien Nare | Be Forever Yorozuya, Gintoki's Birthday Bash 2020, I'm Bad At Summaries, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Sorry, M/M, Minor Violence, Mutual Pining, Not Beta Read, One Shot, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:01:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26838631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chuiying_1/pseuds/chuiying_1
Summary: Hijikata's drunken sufferings during the five years Gintoki was gone, how he got lost in the middle of Yoshiwara with someone so similar, and how his heart got broken in an unexpected way.This is a collaboration for Gintoki's Birthday Bash.
Relationships: Hijikata Toshirou/Sakata Gintoki
Series: Leaving [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1957765
Comments: 3
Kudos: 27
Collections: Gintoki's Birthday Bash 2020





	Drunken

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. This fanfic was illustrated by the wonderful Trapid! Check out her Twitter for even better content: https://twitter.com/trapid_v/status/1312954461631856640?s=19  
> 2\. English is not my first language.  
> 3\. This is my take at some history of Yoshiwara, though I think it failed.  
> 4\. This is for the event of Gintoki's Birthday Bash. Again, I have to say this, because there are also lots of other amazing fanfiction and illustrations for this event.

"Come with me."

Though the stranger's voice was so light and young, with his warm hand on Hijikata's arm, he could not stop himself from sinking.

With only three words, he sank into the sea of his memories.

Drowned in moments he had wanted to remember, like a drowning man finding a piece of flow wood to hang on even just for a minute, Hijikata laughed.

Gintoki had also once taken his hands and said those three words. But he had left him. "Come with me."

Instead, this time, it was not him. It was not in a small bar. It was not a drunken line someone said on a whim.

He and the stranger were in a city where colorful umbrellas bloom. Where wine was served instead of tea, and lights were dimmed for the sake of falling victim to one's physical desires, instead of love. 

In the middle of Yoshiwara, a brothel was the place where people seek for pleasure, not where someone like him can find a lost piece of the puzzle of his soul.

But the sight of the prostitute choked him as if the invisible hands of the past now had caught up and clang onto him, forcing him to remember everything.

His charming lips that were painted over with red rouge, his careless half-lidded eyes that were colored with rose powder, his silky pale skin that was covered with pearl dust, his familiar silver hair that was brushed with grace and adorned with many luxurious kanzashi.

 _*kanzashi_ : _Japanese traditional hairpin_

Though youthful, like a blooming blossom, the familiar aura, and the alluring displays. He fell for it hook, line, and sinker.

"Are... Are you...?"

He could not stop trembling, either from happiness or from the anger and hatred he had towards both himself and Gintoki.

His hand was frozen, as Hijikata feared that if he touched the kagema in front of him, even just once, he would vanish into thin air, and he would wake up from this dream.

_*kagema: male prostitute_

"Do we know each other?"

Was this a dream? How could he resemble Gintoki this much? It was impossible to find a person like him. That diabetic old man would not appear in front of him this easily, right?

No, he must be. He must be.

He must be Gintoki.

But just a look into his eyes had told him everything.

Gintoki would never be this calm. He would never be this docile. He would never dress up for him. He would never be this quiet. He would never... Damn it.

Even if the courtesan in front of him was not the man who he would die to meet again, the painful feelings that were lingering in the corner of his dusty heart made him long for the stranger.

Like a stray passenger in the middle of an endless desert who thirsts for water, so much that he would turn to the blinding sunlight and reach for the illusion of water, despite the heatwave that would kill him.

Just once again, if he could have a glimpse of those burgundy eyes, Hijikata would get on his knees without hesitation, pleading for more and more.

Because that lost dim silver gleam had returned to him and lightened up his night, even if it was not real. He needed to find him, even if he was just his dreams.

Sipped the rest of the sake that was poured in his glass, Hijikata nodded before he followed the crimson silhouette.

Hand in hand, he could feel his heart blooming, like spring had finally come back to Hijikata with the warmth they shared through their palms after years of snowing, even when he knew the boy in front of him was not the reckless idiot he seeks for.

As he was led through the tea house, sensations and sensations never stopped piling and filling up his senses.

Was he going to the realm of another world, where wandering souls find solace at night in women and booze?

The sedate harmony of a shamisen and the tranquilize consonance of a koto, the heated hushed voices of men and the flowers they seek for a blooming night in the middle of the heavy downpour; the light of illuminating candles and glimmering oil lamps, the shadow of captivating figures entwining on sliding doors. The scent of the thunderstorm outside and the fragrance of flowering hydrangeas, the aroma of luxurious cosmetics and extravagant clothing; the burning sensation of wine, and the sacchariferous flavor of blossoms, the unfathomable taste of incense and aged wood.

But when the facade was discarded, the only thing that was left would be the bare needs of humans, the pain of the courtesans, finite lives, and endless nights.

Yet behind the red curtains of such a glamorous, yet pretentious world; behind the charming figures under the dim red lights; behind the graceful fans of bashful, yet bold blossoms; at the end of the tunnel of this maddening realm of Yoshiwara, only a budding white camellia stayed, waiting for him.

Only that untainted blooming beauty held onto his hands with roughed, yet warm fingers and dragged him through the night, before flying away like a butterfly.

"Come."

The camellia that was covered with shades of burgundy called out to him, his voice no longer a mere whisper, yet still so soft and gentle, like how Gintoki would talk to him when his nightmares came.

Took the newly poured cup of wine from the kagema's hand, he looked into his bewitching eyes.

"Shouldn't you lit the lamp?"

Hijikata did not want the sensual intimacy between him and a replacement for the lost man to dragged him down. He did not hope for love when his heart had belonged to someone else. He just hoped for a night of physical fulfillment filled with alcohol, drunken talks, and blissful memories.

He just needed to get rid of the weight of the past that had never left him.

He just wished to be one of the many men in this dark red-light district.

"Just drink and forget everything."

The finely dressed boy poured himself a cup, before bowing to Hijikata as etiquette and drank.

But he left his sake cold. 

How could he forget everything? When he was the one who made this happen? When he was the one who did not stop him from leaving?

"How could I?"

His voice was swallowed by the sound of the storm, but even when his words were drowned in the rain, his regrets never died, as they stayed afloat until the end.

He looked at the courtesan in front of him, Hijikata's drunken eyes never stopped seeking for the lost man in his eyes.

He missed him.

Hijikata missed how he would look at him the last time, even if he would complain about it. He missed how they would fight, and how they would make up right on the next occasion with booze and a night on Gintoki's futon. He missed how they would find a way to distract the other whenever one was in pain.

And he regretted not doing a single thing.

* * *

"What's wrong with you, you sugar addict?"

"Just do it, go along with me, Oogushi-kun."

Though he nagged, he knew Gintoki was not fine at all. His eyes had never dimmed like this before.

Even if his voice masked the unbearable sadness in his eyes with indifference and sleepiness, he understood it.

Wordlessly, he sat on the grass with the silver-haired samurai.

Felt the rough fingers intertwining with his own, Hijikata could not help but feel his heart shivered with happiness that it should not feel.

He did not like this feeling. It had never brought him a never-ending joy, like how it should. Nor did he want it to bring him anything.

Scared of his feelings, Hijikata looked away.

He looked at the stars, at the sky, at the infinite universe. And back at themselves.

Two stubborn men who had to stick to their own rules, who had never have true happiness, despite having gone through so many storms on the way to it; who had always put their own lives on the line, had fought months and years until their hands were roughed up; who was never the docile type with sleeves drenched in blood.

Heaven would never bestow two demons with happiness.

Could not weather the heavy feelings in his heart, Hijikata distracted himself.

"What are you looking at me for, you bastard?"

"Who the hell would want to stare at you, Mayora? Or is it that you want Gin-san to look at you so much that you thought I was looking at you, Oogushi-kun?"

Though saddened by the gruff, angry voice, he knew it was better like this.

They should not be any closer than they already were. The closer they were, the more they would hurt each other.

Put two wild animals in a cage, and one would not get out alive.

"Damn you, you bastard! You were clearly looking at me!"

He removed his hand from Gintoki's hand. And he would never forget the loss in the man's eyes that were covered up with faked anger in a blink of an eye.

"Why should I look at an atrocious sight like you?"

"Do you even understand the meaning of the word "atrocious"? I have never heard you use it before!"

"What's wrong with it? I know its meaning ever since a long time ago, probably even before you were born!"

"Then how the hell did I find you looking at me like some goddamn creep?"

His voice raised.

"Okay, I'm sorry."

Shouldn't they continue to fight like there was no tomorrow?

Gintoki toned down unexpectedly, his head lowered.

He had never gone down without a fight like this. He should have continued to fight, and they should have bickered on and on. They should have ended the argument with exchanges of heated touches. They should have left when everything is done.

What could he say?

After a quiet moment, Hijikata managed to say something to break the silence.

"You suddenly seemed much more mellow."

"Do I?" Gintoki laughed breathlessly. "I seriously want to play pachinko right now. Maybe later. Goodbye, Oogushi-kun."

He should have told him to stay and comforted him as his laugh was so empty and soulless. But he didn't.

"The pachinko is not that way."

He should have asked why was Gintoki going that way and talked him out of it. But he didn't.

"Don't worry about Gin-san. He knows where he's going."

He somewhat slurred on his words, as he stumbled in a sorry of an excuse outlook.

He should have listened to him complaining about everything and reassure him, no matter what happened, just to stop him from leaving. But he didn't. He thought everything would be okay, as he would approach him the next day and make him forget everything with a round of booze and two rounds of sex.

But Gintoki disappeared into thin air.

And Hijikata didn't do anything.

He couldn't do anything.

The only thing he could do, was to frequent their favorite bars, and wait for him to turn up, until Shinpachi appeared.

"I haven't seen him recently, what's wrong?"

"For two weeks?"

"I'll call you once I have a new information on him."

He was not paying enough attention to him. He should not have believed in those words that he had always used to reassure himself.

"Because he would always be there."

He should not have believed it.

* * *

"You can't forget it?"

The young man asked him, his hands pouring another cup for himself, his eyes glued onto Hijikata's straight back, even when he was half sober.

With a fervent nod, he replied. Fetched his pack of cigarettes, he grabbed one and lit up its end, before breath in the smoke.

Nicotine was the thing that fit him the most for now. He wanted to forget everything.

Blew gray smoke through his lips, Hijikata went silent as the nicotine took over his worries and covered his eyes with its well-known scorching hands, as the swirling air flowed endlessly in his lungs and turned his mind into a blank slate, as the looming pain in his chest woke him again, to another unspoken promise that was broken.

"You know what?"

He asked the teenager in front of him, his voice ever so slightly cracked.

"If you ever love someone, hold onto them."

He wished that he could tell that to himself when he was younger.

"Did you lose them?"

"I did."

There was not a single reply.

The air was still, yet he could not breathe.

He tried so hard to find Gintoki. Yet each year, it would always be so hopeless that it hurt. The longer the time, the less hope he had.

"And they haven't find their way back. Yet."

Though everyone was telling him that he was dead, Hijikata could not put down his last hope. He was just lost, and he would come back.

Soon.

The alcohol was blurring the line between the his past and his present, and drowning him in old thoughts that should be left undisturbed at the bottom of his heart, where monsters lied.

The scalding sensation, the drunken joy, the swirling images, everything seems to crash down on him. Yet the loneliness never disappeared.

Like a venom, it kept on seeping and seeping into his blood, never once stopped.

His soul never once stopped weathering it, until now.

It was so worn down that it was hard for him to keep standing straight. He had never felt this lonely before.

* * *

Where was he?

Shouldn't he be drinking with Gintoki? Shouldn't they be melting in each other's arms right now? Shouldn't the bottle be empty right now as they get drunk on the scent of intoxicated touches? Did he forget their yearly date tonight?

Damn it.

"Damn... I'm so drunk right now...That bastard sure got some nerves for keeping me waiting..."

Grabbed the long coat that he hanged on the wall, Hijikata checked for the cigarettes and cash inside his pocket before leaving.

That childish man would be either sick, or stucked somewhere. He was never the type to not complete his end of a promise.

Hit by the cool air that blew in once he opened the door, the raven shivered before putting on his coat and his shoes.

Damn it, he would nag him for a whole hour for keeping him waiting and making him walk down the streets at this ungodly hour.

His birthday should end soon, so at least he wanted to say a happy birthday to the man.

As he walked down the streets, his mind never registered how empty they were, nor how lifeless they were.

The only thing that was on his mind, was that he must find Gintoki.

Though his legs were weak because of the alcohol, Hijikata never once stopped taking steps after steps. He did not know why, but it felt so urgent, that he must find him, or else he would not be able to rest.

Where was he?

The closer he got to Otose's bar, the more his heart clenched in anxiety.

Why?

Gintoki was here, right?

Walked up the stairs, he then stood in front of the sliding door, his heart beating so hard he could hear it.

It was telling him to run. To not open that door.

But he needed to find that silver-haired man, right?

And to find him, he must open the door in front of him.

"Gintoki! Open the goddamn door!"

He called out his name, yet there was no reply. The silence never once calmed his mind, instead, it was racking his nerves more than ever.

"Damn it, why are you so slow, asshole?"

As he opened the door and stepped inside, the sight of the room knocked his breath out of him.

Everything was ruined and in tatters.

The table was flipped and threw at some corner of the room. The sofa was scratched and broken in half. The doors were on the floor.

No one was there.

The room was so empty, unlike usual.

His legs trembled, as he collapsed onto the ground. His eyes blurred as everything seemed to click into place for him.

It had been one year since he left.

And in that one year, he could not find him anywhere.

* * *

"Then live on, for the sake of that person."

No one had ever told him how to live on.

No, he did not want to live on.

He did not want to forget him, even if it meant he could take off the weight on his shoulder and move on. He did not want to stop remembering him, even if it meant he could stop suffering on his own.

No, he could not. Hijikata was too stubborn to do so.

Like a death row inmate, even when he knew what awaited for him at the end of everything, he could not help but sin, until his execution day. Until the day he died for the weight he did not put down had finally crashed onto him.

"Don't be lovesick. It won't get you anywhere."

He knew it. He was not lovesick.

No. He was choked on guilt and regrets of the past. Choked on unspoken words that were kept hidden. Choked on empty, wordless nights that were spent on man's desires. Choked on the collar that his past had put onto a demon like him.

And he had accepted it. Carried on the burden as he should. Changed as he should.

"I'm not lovesick. It was regrets that kept me hanging."

He regretted too many things to even notice any other reason.

He drank to forget about his tainted hands, yet he never once stopped remembering about it.

And the present would always be there, haunting him to his death, never once letting him drift to his dream life for once.

"Just get drunk, and spend a night. You will feel better."

He was drunk, but Hijikata felt so wide awake that it hurt.

His mind never stopped roaming in old memories before, but now, everything seemed to rush back to him.

Like a tsunami, it threatened to wash away all of his happy memories away, leaving only his sins, his pain, his wounds, and the sea of blood of the people he had killed behind.

As a demon, his fate was trampled underneath the feet of gods and deities.

* * *

"Welcome."

Otose greeted him as the door slide open, her hand wiping the table as always.

Once he sat down next to a photo frame and a cup filled with cheap wine, she looked up from the counter to see him.

When she lifted her head, he could see her clearer. Her hair had begun to turn white from old age.

Would he ever find him early enough for this old woman and himself?

"I'm sorry, I haven't find him yet."

No. He could not.

"It's okay. Here for some alcohol?"

Time would never wear down her smile, however. At least, it was still so soothing and gentle, whenever it came to that idiot.

"Yes. Two cups, please."

One for him, and one for himself.

"One's on me. I got him covered."

The old woman laughed, before pouring him a cup, her eyes never once stopped paying attention to the man who was close to collapsing from tiredness in front of her. Took a sip of the wine, he sighed.

"How has it been?"

She asked.

Though she knew the answer, she just wanted him to open his heart for once.

"Things haven't been good, but I guess it is normal."

Probably, it was the gods and deities telling him that he must find the silver-haired man so that everything would be fine again.

"Then focus on making it normal again. You don't have to continue your search for him, you know?"

She had always told him so.

"I have to. I owe him too much."

"I know, but he won't come back. You should be happy."

"But..."

The word that came out of his lips was left hanging.

Why should he say another word?

She understood him, anyway. They both knew he was too stubborn to give up on something. Even if he was forced to throw away his happiness. And giving up was something he had never considered before.

He had too many regrets with Gintoki.

He had too many things left unsaid to that man.

"I will continue, no matter what, you know?"

As the alcohol burned his throat, his head miserably dropped on the counter.

"Why don't you just forget that idiot?"

"Just like why you couldn't forget him."

They both knew why they could not forget him.

"So you do love him, huh?"

Her raspy laughter was gentle, yet so saddening, that he could feel his already torn heart ache for her.

Left the question unanswered, Hijikata asked for another fill of sake.

He had never wanted to say the word out loud. Nor did he want to admit it. But she got him.

Because of it, he had been finding and waiting for him for this long.

It had been two years already.

When will this waiting game end? Why was he not coming back? Why were they so far apart? Why couldn't Hijikata see him?

He did not want to cry, for he was not worthy of crying for him. He was the one who watched him walk away without saying a single word.

"Stay."

"What's wrong?"

"Are you okay?"

He could have said anything. He vould have said three words, two or just one, just to make him stay. He could have follow him, or hold his hand, just to make him stay.

Damn... Was he getting drunk already?

How could he be this drained of energy and emotions?

* * *

"I don't know why, but you look like the one who I lost."

Hijikata said, his eyes on the kagema's hands that were holding a shamisen.

Gintoki once played the instrument, too. And sang with his rough, yet full of emotion voice.

He would trade his soul and life to the gods, just so that Gintoki would be here.

Because then, he would be able to hear the man again.

But the silence told him that the kagema was not the one who he had searched the entire world for. Until the sake had gone cold, the teenager replied to him.

"Drink, until you can't even walk. I'll be here looking over you."

The gentle hand on his own and the soft words in his ears were so... strange.

It made him want to crash down. When he needed to be strong the most. He missed him. He missed their rare gentle moments together. He missed his touches. He missed their nights together.

But how could it come back? Everything had ended.

* * *

"We are here today, to say goodbye to Gintoki for the last time."

Otose's melancholy voice echoed in the empty room, instead of her enraged yells at Gintoki for not paying rent, it did not help with the tears that were close to spilling out of his eyes.

"Gin-chan must not..."

Kagura's mournful sobs that had replaced her normal senseless, yet happy shouts at the maroon-eyed man did not help with the never-ending aching of his heart.

"Kagura, Gin-san had not..."

Shinpachi's gentle words of assurance to the red-haired child Gintoki had raised, which were so strange to him, never once stopped him from thinking that, it was not right.

Shouldn't they be fighting?

Next to him, the only thing he could hear was a heavy, saddening sigh from the long-haired man, something that he had never heard before, even once.

In front of them, was the silver-haired man he had looked for so long.

But it was just an image of him, smiling so happily, that it hurt his eyes.

And instead of being put on a working desk, the photo was put on the grave and it was close to being covered by white chrysanthemums.

Sakata Gintoki's image should not be surrounded by white chrysanthemums and no one should be crying for him.

The grave it was put on should not have his name on it.

He was supposed to show up, and tell everyone, "Damn it, I'm not dead yet, I'm just gone for a few things!" And everyone was not supposed to think of him as dead.

But the funeral never once stopped. 

The tears, the cries, the sighs, nothing ever halted.

"With the White Plague out there, it is a miracle if he's not dead yet." Sougo said, and though he hated to admit, he was never wrong.

"Just shut up."

He wanted to believe so.

He was at fault, for watching him leave just like that, so this hope that he held on was soothing, even if it was killing him inside out. And with the devil's luck, he should be safe, right?

"It won't hurt as much if you accept the truth. But if you die, I will become the Vice Chief, so do whatever you want."

He knew it.

But if he could wait, he would.

He wanted to be able to recognize Gintoki. He wanted to be the first person to recognize that silver shade in the streets. He wanted to be the first one to hit the man, to shout at him, to cry for him, with every emotion that he had bottled inside of himself.

It had been three years.

Where was he?

* * *

The storm never once stopped.

Along with the leaves and flowers outside, his heart was getting cold and drenched in rainwater.

Was he giving up? On what he had told himself that he must not stop doing?

"I'll give you a discount on tonight. In trade, just sleep."

The kagema finally spoke to him, his voice covered by the rain, his emotions submerged in rainwater. Only the sound of a shamisen shone through the arrays of saddening sounds. The melody was at least, soothing his pain.

"Just, not yet."

He drank the cold cup of wine he had left unfinished, before pouring himself another cup.

He should not be drinking anymore, but the miserable man just could not help himself.

* * *

Intoxicated, he wandered.

Hung on alcohol, Hijikata ran, his feet heavier and heavier, his breath shallower and shallower, until he was in front of a named grave.

"Sakata Gintoki."

His words flew away with the howling wind, his voice so light and gentle, as if he had taken off the mask of a demon, leaving behind only a soul that had weathered so many sufferings, yet still standing up straight, waiting for the man with that name.

Why was he still standing and holding onto this fluttering, dying hope? Why was he clinging with such desperation onto it? Why was he crying out loud about it, yet not giving up? Why was he so goddamn stubborn for this man?

"Why are you not coming back?"

He was a senseless man. Walked away with nothing in his hand, no one had ever thought he was leaving.

No one had ever thought he would disappear into thin air. No one had ever thought he was not coming back home.

Like a wind, he came and left.

Like his existence had turned into air.

His white kimonos and his wooden sword, though were inseparable to him, were the last things he left.

With no trace of him, they desperately held onto whatever he had left them.

He, too, clang onto whatever mementos he had.

His candid photos, clothes he had never given back to the man, their photos together, the last bottle of wine they drank with each other.

He just wanted him.

Put the bottle of wine on the ground, Hijikata sat in front of the grave.

"Come back. We still have a lot to talk about."

They had more than just a lot.

He wanted to tell him what happened.

How Edo changed. How Kagura and Shinpachi changed. How Otae changed. How Otose changed. How his idiot friends changed. How people who he once helped changed. How he changed. He wanted to tell him how much they all have missed him. How Otose still waited for her son, even when she said she had given up. How Kagura and Shinpachi would come to him, crying and bawling for their father and brother figure had gone. How Otae's health deteriorated so fast, yet she still tried her best to stay alive, just to see him again. How Katsura stopped being the out-of-the-world human he once was. And how Hijikata would come here and have a drink in front of his grave, telling him to come back, even when he was told to accept the truth.

Filled two cups to the brim, he laid one down on the ground.

"Come back, and I might as well as give you a bunch of things you missed out as a present."

He would give him his unrestrained anger that he had held on for years. He would give him the unshed tears that he had kept hidden for so long. He would give him the untold love that he had put a lid on ever since then. He would give him everything he had ever have.

Because they were what anchored him.

Though painful, they forced him to go on, to search for him.

With him around, he would no longer need it. With him around, his life could become fulfilled again.

"I know you're still out there. Come back home."

Shouldn't he understand that everyone would miss him?

Did he understand that he would miss him, too?

Despite the cold outer layer he always showed to Gintoki, despite the harsh, unforgiving words he always said to him, despite the rushed meetings they always had together for bare physical fulfillment, he had held him in a special place in his heart for years.

Yet he hid his cries of desires hidden away. Was it too late for him to do anything? Would he ever come back?

"Please come back."

It had been four years.

Since that day.

* * *

As he closed his eyes to the sound of the melancholy melody and the roaring storm, Hijikata just hoped for one thing.

To be able to see Gintoki again.

Even if it was in his dream, it was okay.

* * *

"Goddamn it, you asshole! Let me go! You must not go! If you dare go I will fucking kill you!"

He screamed, his voice already hoarse, yet he never stopped struggling against Gintoki's hands pinning him down.

Managed to get one of his arms free, he grasped onto the silver-haired man's tattered kimono's sleeve and dragged him down. He did not fight against everyone and every words they said just to see the man in front of him die.

"Listen, ..."

Even if he yearned for more of that voice, if it was talking about why he needed to go and kill himself to give everyone back their peace, he would undoubtedly shut it down.

He did not want to hear a single reason that was about to be spewed out of that irresponsible piece of shit's mouth.

"Do you know how much time your kids have spent looking for you? Do you know how much time I have spent looking for you? Do you even fucking understand? You goddamn bastard!"

Even though strength had left his body, Hijikata sat on Gintoki and punched the man, again and again, as his heart ached so much that he could not breathe.

Why did he leave without a single word? Why didn't he ask for his help? Why was he kept in the dark? Why wasn't he trying to save himself?

"It will be okay. Everything will be okay. You will forget me, right? Isn't it right for me to forget you too, you ass?"

At last, Gintoki finally stopped one of his punches, his battered face smiling so serene that he hated it.

He was not supposed to smile like that.

He should have been an idiot who would always show a toothy grin, like how his kids always did after him.

Were all those punches Hijikata threw a repay for all of the pain Gintoki gave him? And he believed everything would end peacefully with Hijikata giving up, letting him go and erase his bruised black existence? And everyone would be happy once he had left? What kind of bullshit was that?

Though Edo would be free from the plague, how could anyone he had ever protected live with that emptiness that could never be filled up again? How could they bear losing a piece of their soul?

"I'm not allowing you to go."

He only wanted to hit him until the Yorozuya's eyes stopped looking so sad. He only wanted to hold him down until the silver-haired man stopped thinking of leaving him behind. He only wanted to... Look at him, until the end of his time.

Even if that meant he could only live for another second.

Instead of doing anything else, the maroon-eyed man pulled his collar down, until their noses touched, and their breaths intertwined.

He could see the strange soft, loving, yet sad gaze in his eyes, taste the familiar sweet breath on his lips, feel the warmth of Gintoki's fingertips on his neck, the light touch of his lips onto his.

The bittersweet, chaste kiss he gave him made Hijikata wanting to burst into tears.

He missed this warmth.

More than the mindlessly passionate kisses that they would exchange every once in a while. More than the physical fulfillments that they they would share in soundless, peaceful nights. More than the silent moments that they would enjoy together every harsh night, when the demons in their minds come back, even if they were not lovers.

After what seems like a lifelong inseparable kiss, he had finally let go.

"Now I won't have any regrets before leaving for Sanzu."

"Leaving?"

Felt a sharp pain in his shoulder, Hijikata fell back onto the ground as he groaned in pain. As he exhaled such heavy breaths, the man below him did not waste his chance to throw him down on the ground.

"I'm sorry, but it will get better soon, just wait."

And here he thought, Gintoki would not do anything he must to kill himself.

"Gintoki!"

Struggled with the wooden sword impaled in his shoulder, he tried to get up and listened to the footsteps getting further from him.

Kept the sword in, he ran with every last sliver of strength he had in his body. His heart raced millions of miles in barely a few minutes, but how could he care about it?

He thought, he could faint out of blood loss or pain later, but just not now.

Hijikata followed him, his shoes skittered on the ground, but he continued to run for his life.

He would lose him if he was not fast enough. He would not let someone who he loved so dearly slip away.

Not again. Mitsuba was too much for him already.

Even when blood dripped onto the cement floor with every step he took, when he was drained of everything, out of strength, out of breath, he still screamed his throat raw in pure anger, desperation, and sadness, hoping to be heard in the middle of nowhere, even just once.

"God fucking damn it, just let me save you for once!"

The tears he had tried so hard to keep from falling before ran down on his cheeks for the first time in years, as his voice cracked, and the footsteps disappeared.

"Gintoki!"

"Gintoki!"

How did it come to this? How?

Tears flowed endlessly from his eyes, blurring his eyesight. His knees buckled under his own weight, and Toyako was soaked in his blood.

So this broken wooden sword was the only thing the man left him with.

While the only thing he wanted was to see and have Gintoki again.

Five years.

And heaven had never once gave them their happiness.

* * *

Hijikata woke up from his nightmare, his heart was still racing from the rush of adrenaline, his eyes were still wet from the nightmare.

A nightmare about losing a man named Gintoki.

"Gintoki?"

He murmured the man's name, as his mind was still in a haze.

A man with silver hair, and... Gintoki... What did that man look like?

Why did he remember that name? Who was he? And why was he crying, why was his heart clenching?

It was hurting so damn bad that he could not breathe.

What had he lost? What was its name?

* * *

Though it was painful, not being able to make him happy, but as long as Hijikata was alive with anyone he loved, it would be enough for Gintoki.

Though filled with regrets, not being able to be with him, but as long as his sacrifice was not for naught, it would be enough for Gintoki.

"Devour everything that you hate and all that you love,"

As he stabbed his sword deeper into his past self, he could not help but teared up.

"I'm sorry, but I have to protect everyone from us demons."

Why were their faces showing up at this moment? He regretted not seeing their face before he left.

Kagura, Shinpachi, Sadaharu, he hoped they would find each other again. Even if he was not there.

"And cry your heart out as you're left alone in this world."

He wished they will be happy. And that they would never be left alone.

Loneliness killed souls.

Even if he was going all alone, at least he would not be scared of being left behind.

If he did not exist, he would not be scared of loneliness.

Watching his own hands getting blurry, as his past self in front of him took his last breath, Gintoki laughed, his tears flowed out uncontrollably.

That was right, everyone was safe.

No matter how it was, he would bear the burden he had earned.

And he would take as many crappy curses as many times it took.

As Toyako fell out of his grasp, his laughter got even louder.

Even a dirty sword like him could still protect something.

His body kept on blurring and dissipating into thin air until there was nothing left.

Until he died, Gintoki could at least see Takasugi and Katsura.

And their excruciatingly tearful eyes at the sight of him bleeding his life out on the cold ground.

**Author's Note:**

> For the kagema/Male prostitutes of Yoshiwara, if you see them as flowers, if I'm not wrong, 15 is the budding age, 16-18 is the blooming age (the age in which they are the most beautiful) and from there on they are fallen flowers.
> 
> And Sanzu is a river must cross to reincarnate. Sorta similar to Chinese's Wangchuan, though less complicated. (Not exactly sure since I understand Chinese culture more than Japanese).


End file.
